Prohibition
by Psychee
Summary: Dean wasn't planning on being in Purgatory and so he certainly didn't plan on detox.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to Kripke and the CW and clearly not to me.

_Few things can help an individual more than to place responsibility on him, and to let him know that you trust him. _Booker T. Washington

Prohibition_  
_

Recently, when things were really bad, Sam told Dean that he didn't really care what his brother did to cope so long as he didn't die. He wanted a promise, so Dean, always trying to take care of his brother, gave him a weak one. Yeah, Dean would do what he could to keep from dying, for Sam.

But not dying didn't mean he was really living. He woke up every morning far from Heaven and just this side of Hell, no reason to go back and unable to move forward; a life in limbo…

Now he was actually in Limbo.

He had boned Dick, the evil bastard, who then exploded back to where he came from, sucking Dean and Cas along with him. The blast had knocked Dean out and he woke up in Purgatory, encircled by snarling red-eyed shadows and temporarily abandoned by his only possible ally.

Temporarily came very close to being permanently, as the shadows coalesced into werewolves with wicked, slashing claws and sharp, snapping teeth. Dean, alone and surrounded, was plucked without warning by an angelic hand from the grasp of the first monster to break through the trees and taken to someplace else.

Someplace else looked a lot like where he had just been standing; trees with shadowy limbs rustling in a non-existent breeze and grey ambient light. The sole difference between there and here being the lack of monsters trying to kill him. Dean collapsed to the ground just to catch his breath. He felt in danger of hyperventilating. Hell, he felt in danger of dying.

"We should not be here," Castiel said soberly, scanning the trees for any sign of movement. The falling angel looked at the only human in Purgatory and frowned, "Purgatory is a prison for things too dangerous to be allowed in my Father's world and an afterlife for the souls of things that were once human or were never human. You are still human and not dead; at least not yet, though your chance for survival does not look good. This is not a place for the flesh. I'm not even certain how you continue to breathe given there shouldn't be any real air here.

"Our being here is an affront to the natural order." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Of course there is a possibility that if you die here, a reaper will come and take your soul to…where ever it is intended to go, most likely Heaven. That might be one manner of egress."

"There are two operative words there, Cas, possibility and die and dying is not a good idea, I kinda promised Sam," Dean shook his head, a spectacularly bad move as it made him feel like his brain was careening around and bouncing off his skull. "It's a bad plan. We'll have to come up with another one."

"Such as?"

"Such as we work on finding a way out from this side while Sam works on finding a way to get us out from his side. One of us will come up with something. " Dean sounded more certain than he felt.

Castiel studied Dean as closely as the waning light would allow. His face was pale and he was sweating even though it was far from warm. There was a tremor of his hands. "You are not well."

"I'm fine."

"You are lying. Are you injured? Was it the werewolves?"

"I'm not injured!" Dean insisted. He felt like crap but it wasn't due to an injury. He wondered how long he was out after being pulled into Limbo and if time here ran faster like it did in Hell. He tried to calculate when he'd had his last shot of booze.

"Then what is wrong? You might as well tell me the truth now as I will eventually find it out."

Dean shook his head. His stomach was rolling and his gut cramping, his hands were trembling and he had a headache that was second only to a post-concussion migraine. In short he was feeling far from fine and could really use a drink. No not use one, needed one.

"I need a drink."

"I will go and look for water, though it is unlikely that I will find anything since souls require neither food nor water and this is a realm made for the essence of things."

"No, Cas," hating himself just a little more than usual because of what he had to admit, Dean swallowed thickly. "I need a drink of alcohol. You've probably noticed that I drink a lot of alcohol. I drink a few glasses to get to sleep then have another so I won't dream. I wake up and drink some more, trying for a steady state of numb so I don't have to feel anything.

"I've been drinking so much for so long that now I have to drink just to feel normal…or at least as normal as I ever feel. I think I'm going into withdrawal," Dean reluctantly admitted with uncharacteristic honesty.

Castiel narrowed his eyes in concern. "I have some honey, with a few other ingredients I can make you some mead." He shook his head. "Of course I'll have to make a small distillery and then wait for it to ferment and that might take longer than you would want to wait. You have none with you? You generally carry some in a flask. "

Dean closed his eyes with a grimace and took a couple of deep breaths to calm his racing heart and cool his irritability. "Man you're bouncing back and forth from old stick-up-your-ass you to let's-play-twister you so fast that watching it is giving me whiplash. Settle on a personality and go with it, okay.

"And no, I don't have any hooch with me. I melted Bobby's flask and I thought after confronting Dick, I'd either end up dead or be back to the cabin for a celebratory drink. I didn't think about bringing an extra bottle just in case I ended up in a dry afterlife."

"Yes, well, next time you should plan more carefully," Castiel admonished.

"I'll be sure to do that."

Cas took another long look into the darkness. "We appear to be safe for the moment. What can I do to help you?"

"You got any angel juice to spare? I can handle the detox but not running and fighting and detoxing."

"Dean, I'm sorry but this is not an injury that was done to your body but something you have done to yourself, it is not something that I can heal. However, I can see you are physically unwell. Perhaps if we talk it will provide distraction and take your mind off of your discomfort."

Dean shook his head. "I don't like to talk even when I'm not shaking and sweating. In the long run, it never seems to be a good idea."

"While I was at the hospital after assuming Sam's Hell, I was lead to believe that talking about one's emotional hurts is very therapeutic and the first step to acknowledging problems and looking for more effective coping strategies. I think you must learn a more effective way to deal with your emotional pain since you will no longer be able to rely on psychic numbing agents such as alcohol while we are here."

Dean rubbed his hands down his face and frowned at the idiotic suggestion. "You're kidding right? I'm sitting here irritable, anxious, cramping and shaking and you think this is a good time to talk about my feelings? Screw you, Freud; talking about your feelings only gets them thrown back in your face later when the person you tell gets possessed or pissed."

Castiel persisted, pretending innocence of his own transgression in that regard when he denied Dean's contention that they were like family. "To take your mind from your current physical discomfort, you should begin to deal with your old emotional pains. I will listen with unconditional positive regard and a non-judgmental attitude, just as the therapist did during the group gatherings that I was invited to attend at the psychiatric hospital. Talking about the evil of my brother was quite cathartic, even if they did generally increase the medications they gave me afterward. Of course your pain is old and deep, so perhaps you should start by telling me about your childhood or more recently your time in Hell. I saw you in Perdition so nothing you say would cause me to change my opinion of you, if that is your fear."

Dean looked down at his shaking hands and then way into the darkness. "First of all, I didn't say I'd be spilling my guts and even if I did, I wouldn't want to talk about my guts being spilled. If you want me to talk, pick something else. Or maybe you could talk about your feelings. Why don't you go emote all over the place to keep my mind occupied?"

Castiel looked down, shadows falling across his face. "I can't talk reliably about my emotions as I am still trying to understand them myself. It was all so much simpler before you taught me how to feel and try to think for myself. The only emotion I am certain of is remorse and guilt."

Dean forced a dry chuckle, pushing down his guilt for complicating Cas' existence. "Well, if you need any pointers don't be afraid to ask, when it comes to guilt and remorse, I'm the expert. " A sudden pain tore through his gut and he grunted before he was able to breathe his way through it. Maybe distraction would help. "You want to talk, let's talk. Why didn't you just ask for my help when Ralphie was threatening you and wanting to restart the Apocalypse? You were my friend. Did you think I wouldn't help?"

Cas turned his back to Dean and pretended to search the shadows. He was quiet for a long time. "No, I knew you would help and that was why I didn't want to ask you." He paused again. "You seemed to have found a bit of peace. After all you had sacrificed, a bit of peace seemed the least that was owed. I was trying to be a friend, it just all went so very wrong and instead of being a friend, I became an enemy. You were right. I was a child. In my arrogance I thought I could handle the power. I was naïve and even worse, I was cruel. I hurt you and I hurt Sam. I hurt people innocent of doing me any harm and all those that the Leviathans harmed, that is blood on my hands. I do not think I can ever be cleansed of it.

"You are right, Dean, again. Talking about it changes nothing and only makes a pain that has begun to dull, sharp again."

Castiel contemplated the gloom. "I understand now why I am here. I am a monster. I belong here. I am sorry that you were carried here with me. Your pain must be a part of my punishment."

Dean sighed loudly in exasperation. "Damn it Cas! Get over yourself," he yelled, "You aren't here as punishment any more than I'm here because I need to go to rehab. You're here because you're the wretched bastard that got the dirty job of raising me from perdition. You're here because this is how Winchester luck works. We win the battle; we win the war but never without it costing more than we want to pay.

"We're here because the weapon blew up Dick and then blew up in our faces!"

A rustling in the trees drew their attention and they held their breath until deciding it was just the wind.

"Perhaps we should speak quietly," Castiel suggested.

Dean nodded his head in quick agreement. "Listen," he whispered, the words still sounding too loud in the empty air, "You don't deserve this and the minute you believe that you do, you'll stop fighting and just accept it. You do that and we might as well give up now."

Winchester stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket to hide the tremors. His heart was racing and for a second he considered that he might be having a heart attack; he'd had enough of them to recognize the feeling. He was certain it was all pointless anyway and he would be better off just lying down and waiting for a reaper to show up; except he was afraid if he died here he would stay here and never get to see Sam again, even in death. It was just stubbornness that was keeping him going. "I'm barely holding on here and things are likely to get worse before they get better. You're all I got right now and I gotta know that I can trust you to have my back and not go all martyr on me."

Castiel stared at Dean for several very long minutes; maybe this was not so much a punishment but another chance at redemption. A very small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. The trust that he thought was totally destroyed was being rebuilt. Now he just had to make certain he was worthy of it. "I will try my best not to die. I will try my best not to let you die. We will find a way through this and out the other side. I will not betray your trust again."

He looked back out at the shadows. "It occurs to me that Purgatory is also a temporary place of punishment where souls are made ready for Heaven. It would not be appropriate that Leviathans and souls which might eventually be taken to paradise be placed together. Perhaps there are levels of Purgatory just as there are levels of Hell. Where Leviathan dwell is likely too secure. If it were not, they would have escaped to your world eon ago. If we move to where the souls are prepared for Heaven, it might be easier to find a way out. If nothing else, perhaps we could find the door to Heaven and from there I could easily get you home. To set our direction, we could capture a creature to question or once you are feeling better, I could explore."

Dean swallowed the bile that was rising into his throat and forced a smile. "Now that is a plan. Just give me a couple of hours and as soon as I feel a bit better we'll get right on it."

Castiel turned and walked over to Dean, squatting down beside him. "Perhaps if you slept, you could avoid the worst of it."

"Yeah, that would be great but it's not going to happen. There's no way I'd able to nod off, I'm too…keyed up."

"I cannot heal you but that I can help with," the angel said as he quickly raised two fingers to Dean's forehead before Winchester could move away. "Sleep and recover. I will keep watch. Trust me to take care of you and keep you safe." He caught his friend as he collapsed and gently lowered him to the ground. Taking off his trench coat, he folded it and tenderly placed it beneath Dean's head. "By this shared adversity, we will rebuild the bond of our trust."

Dean didn't object.

Castiel chose to interpret Dean's silence as agreement.

End

I love the possibilities that Purgatory provides and have read some very good and interesting stories about how Cas and Dean escape. This isn't one of them. I don't know how they will get out.

Thanks to my husband for a quick edit. His only real comment was that the story appeared unfinished. I agree but when you got nothing, you got nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

_Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me…Psalms 23:4_

Prohibition

(the second conversation)

When Dean awoke he was still nauseous, still had a headache and still was shaky. His mouth felt like there might be a poisonous fungus growing in it: his tongue feeling too big, too dry and too fuzzy. The world was still grey. He was still in Purgatory. Damn it.

He cautiously raised himself on his elbows scanning his immediate area. It wasn't until he saw Castiel sitting a few feet away that his anxiety ratcheted down a notch; falling somewhere between "it's time to panic and run" and "I'm gonna need a bigger gun."

He pushed himself into a sitting position. His nausea didn't get worse and his head didn't feel like it was going to explode. He actually didn't feel any worse than if he was nursing a mild hangover. Ironic since the cause of his current indisposition was the lack of a good stiff drink rather than over indulging in one. All in all, he only felt like crap rather than road kill. He tried to remember everything he knew about alcohol detoxing but came up with a fat nothing, as stopping drinking was never really high on his to-do list. Still, he thought he must have been asleep for a really long time since he believed the worst of the physical effects of alcohol withdrawal had passed.

Although he thought the chance of his current situation getting better were between slim and none, at least he didn't feel like things had gotten any worse. That is until he took a really good look at the angel…fallen or falling angel…ex-god. What exactly was Castiel now? He tentatively settled on friend.

He stared at his friend a second and then slammed his eyes shut.

Castiel turned from surveying the bleak landscape to surveying Winchester as soon as he had started to rise to the surface of his ocean of dreamless sleep. He had made certain he had held Dean under long enough that the more uncomfortable symptoms of his alcohol detoxification should have passed.

"Time here is difficult to measure precisely. I estimate you have slept for 3 days earth time." He reported, knowing that would be the first question Dean would ask. "How are you feeling? The worst effects should have passed."

"Well, I thought I was doing fine, but I think I might have DT's." Dean sneaked another quick look before covering his eyes with both hands.

Castiel looked at him blankly, head slowly tilting as he waited for an explanation.

"DT's… hallucinations. I'm seeing things."

Castiel's forehead furrowed slightly. "Are you seeing Lucifer?"

Dean shook his head gingerly, mindful of making his headache worse, "I'm seeing you."

"Then you're not hallucinating as I am here."

"Yeah, but you're glowing."

"Oh," Cas said after a seconds consideration. "I'll try not to."

The casualness of the statement caused Dean to open his eyes. "Try not to? Does that mean that you really are all…glow-ee?"

"Yes."

Dean blinked a couple of times and climbed slowly to his feet. "I think maybe I was asleep too long and missed out on some important shit. Why don't you take a few minutes to bring me up to date."

Castiel cocked his head to the other side in consideration. "The short explanation is that I am a bee."

Dean shook his head. "You're still loony tunes. We're screwed."

Castiel straightened his shoulders and hastened to further explain. "Of course I'm not an actual bee. That was an analogy. It appears that I am now unavoidably connected to some of the souls of Purgatory as I…embraced…them before. This is a mixed blessing. It is giving me the ability to protect us…you."

Dean jumped on the possible implication. "It giving you enough juice to get us back home?"

Cas looked away to avoid seeing the hopeful look in Dean's eyes. He didn't want to be responsible for it bleeding away. "No, leaving Purgatory is not that simple. If it were, the Leviathan or the Old Ones would have already escaped. However, I am able to sustain your bodily needs. I can keep you from dying of either hunger or thirst; heal your injuries."

Winchester digested the information and nodded. "OK, you can keep me from starving and I have my own personal night light. So what's the down side?"

"Something I should have considered before I helped Crowley open the door to Purgatory. The souls here are tainted. Just as the flowers that a bee visits influences the taste of the honey, the souls' power also has an influence…I am having to…to keep the…connection…down to a trickle so that I don't become a power hungry megalomaniac."

"Ohhh," Dean whispered in rapid understanding.

"Yes," Castiel nodded, "Ohhh."

"What can I do to help?" Dean asked as he absently rubbed a hand across his stomach. He might not be able to starve but that apparently wasn't gonna keep his stomach from clinching like he might crush an empty beer can.

Beer can…beer…he could certainly use a cold beer to wash the foulness from his mouth, he thought before banishing all thoughts or hopes of alcohol. No use in torturing himself. While he was in Purgatory, he was on the wagon whether he liked it or not. He gathered his straying thoughts and forced then back to the subject at hand. Specifically finding out what he needed to do to help Castiel stay sane or at least mostly sane.

Castiel looked down, apparently finding his shoes very interesting. "You've already helped," he admitted reluctantly, not raising his eyes.

Dean bristled with suspicion. "Really, 'cause I don't remember doing anything but taking a nap because of a pushy angel pretending to be a Sandman." A start had been made but Castiel hadn't fully regained his trust. He might forgive but forgetting made you stupid. "What did you do?"

Castiel seem to be looking anywhere but at Dean. "I took advantage of you in your sleep." He quickly made eye contact and hurried on, "It was necessary. I had to touch your soul to reestablish our profound bound. The one we shared when I raised you from Perdition. I severed it after what happened in Stull Cemetery because I naively believed with the Apocalypse averted, our lives would not be likely to cross significantly again. That is why my mark disappeared from your arm. Now it's back. "

Dean quickly raised his right hand to his left bicep. He could feel the keloid scar right through his clothing. It felt right that it was back.

Castiel continued rapidly, as if trying to explain himself before Dean decided how he felt about the potential violation. "I now believe that touching your soul and being in proximity to it, changed me; made me more willing to go against the word of my superiors and rebel. In effect you soul was the flower from which I harvested nectar and pollen and made my free will honey."

Dean raised a finger and stabbed it at the angel. "First, you did not make any honey from my soul. Period. Don't even think that where I can hear you 'cause it's just wrong on so many levels." He then appeared to deflate, his spirit collapsing in on itself.

They both surveyed the bleak landscape in uneasy silence.

"Two, I'm sorry that being my friend tainted you," Winchester said softly. "No surprise I guess but still…"

"You misunderstand," Castiel interrupted, "your soul didn't taint me. It freed me. And I needed to re-establish that contact so it could be a buffer between me and the other souls in Purgatory. Better to be primarily influenced by a mostly broken, angry, currently ex-alcoholic potential angelic vessel than a multitude of tainted, megalomaniacal and merciless souls."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Dean said sarcastically.

"You're welcome," Castiel said seriously.

"So," Dean said casually, "You're a bee."

"On second thought, in Purgatory I am more a glass under a faucet through which flows polluted water."

"And I'm your water filter?"

"Essentially, yes."

"So, I guess that means you have to stick close to me…so…my soul can strain out the Purgatory impurities."

"Yes."

"You gonna keep glowing?"

Castiel shrugged, "There are a lot of souls here. Even trying to strictly limit the flow so I don't become too intoxicated with the power, and with your soul as a buffer, the excess energy has to be expressed somehow."

"Isn't that gonna be problem? Makes hiding a little difficult if we run into a really big monster."

Cas frowned slightly in consideration of Dean's question. "We need to avoid Leviathan, which can kill angels, and the Yog-Sothothery."

Dean nodded, "I had no intention of meeting up with big mouths again. Never heard of Yoga…yogi..apothecaries but I'll put them on my no-fly list."

Castiel allowed himself a slight self-depreciating smile, "Except for those, we are now the biggest, baddest monsters around."

Dean rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He would have to be careful. Between the Winchesters and those damn Campbells, his family was responsible for ushering a good number of monster souls into this land of perpetual twilight. He'd have to try to avoid old enemies that might want payback. Still, if he could keep Cas from going nuclear, then they might just have a shot at surviving. "Well, I'm sober but not very clean," he said while discretely sniffing his shoulder. "You're so clean you're shiny but with all the power you're sucking up, not really sober. Sounds like it's time to be proactive. Let's go kick some Purgatory ass and find a way out of here."

Castiel nodded and practically sighed with relief that Dean was so accepting of his current situation. He glowed a little brighter with momentary happiness before returning to a solemn appraisal of his friend. He reached out and laid his right hand on Dean's left bicep; his handprint matching perfectly the scar hidden underneath Dean's shirt.

Dean nodded his acceptance of the gesture and smiled at his friend.

Some things don't need to be said to still be a promise.

End


	3. Chapter 3

_And so it follows from the last chapter. I don't really have to say that as of episode 8.01 (really even before that) it is totally AU. Nah, didn't think so….this is rather short, more of a transition piece for a part that has not yet been written. I love the potential of Purgatory and enjoy the stories written by others that explore it. Anyone else noticing how little Dean is drinking in the last 3 episodes?_

Purgatory was Hell Lite.

At least for some, like those poor souls that were there waiting to be purified so they could get into Heaven.

Purgatory was also Heaven Lite.

Eve had made it a place of eternal hunting and twilight for the souls of the monsters that are her children. In Purgatory their souls are with their mother and maker, as close to a personal heaven as a monster can get.

For the Leviathans and the Old Ones, about which the less said the better as according to Castiel even saying their name apparently could draw their unwanted attention, Purgatory was a cage.

So at any one point in time, two thirds of the population wanted out. This included Dean Winchester.

For Dean, Purgatory was more a hell than a heaven; a cage from which he and Castiel were determined to escape. It was a trial just to survive, and Dean had to survive since he wasn't a soul but a person with all the needs of a person: eating, drinking, sleeping, and shelter.

True surviving was a lot easier once Castiel had gotten his angel mojo back. Since Cas had gotten some power, alright a lot of potential power, he had been sustaining Dean; keeping him from starvation and dehydration in a place that wasn't exactly designed to meet the needs of things that still needed to eat and drink.

All Dean had to do was make certain that the power from sucking on all those tainted souls didn't make the angel go dark-side.

If he knew where the angel was, it would make his job a lot easier.

It took Dean a little while before he really started to worry about the angel. It wasn't too unusual for Cas to take off for long periods of time looking for a way out, tracking down rumors and leads. Dean never felt his guardian was too far away though; at least never far enough away that a quick prayer couldn't get him back in two flaps of an angel's wings.

Dean had started worrying, just a little, about his absent friend when he noticed that he was getting thirsty. If he was getting thirsty then Cas either wasn't paying attention or wasn't able to maintain Dean's body any longer. Dean wasn't certain which would be worse, to be forgotten by the only ally, only friend, he had in this god-forsaken place or to have his only friend and ally dead or worse. No, he knew what would be worse. He had lived it more than once.

'Course, right now, Dean would settle for a slightly tarnished, mostly fallen or even half dead angel because his tongue felt swollen with thirst, his stomach was so empty it was a twisting pit, and his legs were about to give out from running. A problem from which the sharp toothed, long-clawed, yellow eyed monstrosity that was chasing him didn't appear to be suffering.

Dean could feel the heated breath of his pursuer on the back of his neck. With his energy flagging, Winchester couldn't run any longer. He turned, gripping a sharpened tree branch, ready to make a futile last stand when suddenly he wasn't standing any longer.

The landscape shifted and the fugly wanting to use him as a chew toy was gone. Dean was on his back staring up into a starless sky and concerned blue eyes. "I came as soon as I could get away. Believe me when I say it was never my intention to be gone so long."

Dean raised a hand which Castiel grasped and pulled, levering the Winchester to his feet. "Where were you?" Dean asked with curiosity and not accusation. "You all right?"

Castiel looked at Dean with an unblinking gaze, which was his attempt at sincerity. "Eve knows that we are here. She is…most interested…in establishing a dialog."

Dean shook his head. He couldn't catch a break even if it was hobbled and exhausted. "Revenge huh?"

"Yes."

"How'd she find out we're here?"

"Leviathans. Apparently she and the leviathans are not allies but do occasionally find common cause."

"I'll be damn."

"At least once."

"So that doesn't answer my question as to where have you been?"

"I believe that you would say I was sampling Eve's hospitality."

"Cas?" Dean put all his concern into that one word.

"Don't worry about me. I am fine. I had to draw deeply on my bond with the souls here in Purgatory to have the power to escape her. However, I've shut the link down now and am in no danger of doing something rash."

"Man, I wasn't worried that you were going to go all bow-to-me-I-am-awesome again, I was worried that maybe you were hurt."

"I have repaired all the damage and am well. I have also found information that may be helpful. The area were human souls are purified is beyond the mountains of madness. A gate to Heaven is rumored to be located there. The information is uncertain but it can apparently be opened on this side either by purified soul or an angel. If we can get there, I am certain…well mostly certain… that I can open the gate and enter and keep the gate open long enough to grab you and send you back to earth and to your brother."

Dean tried to not be hopeful but he couldn't keep a glimmer from sneaking under his defenses. Even if he couldn't get into Heaven from this side, not being dead…yet, if Cas could get home, he would count that as a win.

"Sounds like something we need to check out. You know the way to these mountains?"

Castiel nodded, "I believe so." He shifted minutely. "But there is something that must be done before we start that journey. The others are here. I have heard their chorus."

Dean narrowed his eyes but otherwise kept his expression blank, "Vague much."

"I have heard the halleluiahs of other angels. Their graces must have been sent here when they died in our worlds. I need to find them and take them with us to the gate of Heaven. Many, too many, are here because of me and it's possible that one reason I am here is so that I can lead them back home."

"Cas, what have I said about pre-determination and destiny?"

"That we make our own, which is what I am doing. I am making my own destiny by trying to right my own wrongs. You have tried to teach me free will. This is the other half of that: making things right when you chose unwisely."

They stared at each other silently until Dean's stomach rumbled loudly.

He was suddenly suffused with contentment; tired muscles relaxing, hunger and thirst disappearing. He grinned lopsidedly in relief.

"Seems like you hit the jackpot this time. So other angels and a gate?"

"Yes."

"Over some pissed-off hills?"

"Past the mountains of madness is where the gate lies, yes. However, I don't believe the name is meant to mean that the mountains are angry but rather the other definition of mad."

Dean shook his head and looked off to the horizon. "So we might be takin' a trip on the crazy train. Well, at least you're familiar with the conductor. Any idea where to find these other angels?"

"Not currently."

"Why haven't they just gone up and entered the gate themselves?"

"They are not angels anymore but rather their graces. Just like, yourself excluded, there are no humans or monsters here, only their souls. If the information is to be believed, they cannot open the gate."

Dean nodded acceptance. "You know these other angels or graces probably aren't going to be happy to see you. Your siblings don't actually seem like the forgiving kind."

Castiel tilted his head thoughtful. "True, forgiveness was not a trait that most of us inherited from Father. Still, giving them a way home could do a lot to regain their acceptance."

Dean grinned broadly and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "So flying dicks can be bribed?"

Castiel met the gesture with a slight smile. "It usually takes prayers, incense and a sacrifice, first born sons being the traditional offering. However, I believe that my brethren would find you too much trouble and would be willing to accept a way home instead."

Dean rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Alright, well let's get this show on the road. Pick a direction and let's go find us some angel graces."

"That doesn't seem a very efficient way to find them. Especially as we do not have a lot of time before Eve and the Leviathan actively hunt for us."

"How are we gonna find 'em then Cas?"

"I suggest you pray."


	4. Chapter 4

_This story is a bridge from Prohibition to current canon. Thanks so much to everyone who followed, favored or reviewed it. Also, a very large and special thanks to Shalot who reviewed and offered great suggestions. I am indebted to her._

Prohibition-chapter 4

Dean prayed to him every day. He chased down leads and then beheaded them. He became pitiless because he had to be.

Hell taught Dean he could be broken and still survive. It also taught him a very unique skill set that he had tried so very hard to forget but after 40 years in the pit…yeah, not gonna happen. He used what he had been mercilessly taught, what he had reluctantly become good at, to find out what he needed to know.

With the only coping strategy that he had learned from his father, Dean used alcohol to blur the memories and dull the pain after he was raised from Hell and then had to endure his own personal hell on earth. He was stone cold sober in Purgatory. He had no way to minimize his pain, so he used it.

He had to because he had lost the Angel.

Again.

Castiel was just gone.

Even if a stiff shot was available, he couldn't risk drinking it, couldn't risk dulling his mind or slowing his reactions. Being at anything other than his best was a sure way to lose the only thing he had left: his life.

If he lost that, he'd never find Cas. He'd never get out of Purgatory, never see Sam again.

It had happened quickly, everything going to hell. Figuratively and not literally, at least that was what Dean hoped.

Castiel had refused to head to a possible gate to Heaven that was past the mountains of madness until he found his siblings. Cas wasn't certain where the angelic Graces were but had a general direction, playing hot and cold with the Glorias and Hallelujahs that he heard faintly in the distance. They were headed away from the mountains and had just gone around a swampy area. Dean had been joking about the Fire Swamp and Cas needing to watch out for ROUS. The angel had been looking at him blankly and intensively scanning the area, totally missing the reference to the Princess Bride.

One second Dean was staring at the horizon and promising to make his friend sit through the movie as soon as they got back and he could arrange a viewing with a big bowl of popcorn and a six pack of beer. The next second he was turning back to tell Cas about the first time he and Sam saw the movie and how afterward a four year old Sam had run around for weeks with a stick as a sword pretending to slash at Dean and warning _My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to Die!_

Only, Cas wasn't there and the words caught in his throat and threatened to choke him.

At least this time Dean knew Cas wasn't dead. He didn't hunger or thirst so the connection was being maintained.

Dean considered the usual suspects; came up with theories only to quickly discard them. At first he thought that Eve might have swooped in and taken the angel. That didn't make sense though since he knew that the Mother could inhibit Cas' mojo. If the Levis had taken him, they would have made more of a production of it and wouldn't have left Dean standing. He supposed that the other angels could have taken him. They had reason to be upset with Cas, seeing as a good number of them were here either directly or indirectly because of him. But Cas should have been able to feel his brothers coming. Dean toyed briefly with the idea that Castiel had just left him to fend for himself, again. However, his friend wouldn't do that to him. Not for any reason.

Yeah, right.

Every friend he'd ever had, everyone he had ever cared about, including his dad, Sam, Bobby, and Cas, had let him down. He'd forgiven them; every damn time, he forgave them. That didn't mean he'd forgotten having his trust betrayed and that he didn't look for it, even expect it, to happen again.

Still, Cas was his only ally in Purgatory. He hoped he could find him sooner rather than later.

It wasn't sooner.

Dean looked and looked. He hunted, questioned and killed things that he had no rational hope of being able to kill.

None of them could tell him anything.

Then he met a vampire.

It says something about his time in Purgatory that things started looking up after that.

End


End file.
